


Under Wraps

by runningondreams



Series: Out of Sight, Not Out Of Mind [5]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-21 13:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17044838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningondreams/pseuds/runningondreams
Summary: Tony's spent a lot of time planning for this party. He's bought and wrapped gifts, sent out invitations, helped Jarvis decorate and made sure there will be enough food for a super-human crowd.He didn't plan for mistletoe.





	Under Wraps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cap iron man community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cap+iron+man+community).



> For the Cap-Ironman community gift prompt: “New Avengers-era: Steve and Tony kiss under the mistletoe” with a side of “Steve and Tony are friends with benefits when they're between relationships.”  
> Many thanks to morphia for the beta!
> 
> * * *

The only Avenger Tony has ever known to actual respect the implied secrecy and surprise associated with wrapping paper is Steve, which is why he’s been keeping his crinkly and colorful collection of presents-in-waiting at his office and not the Tower apartments. This works perfectly well until he needs to move them on Christmas Eve, and ends up with too many boxes in too many bags and can’t manage them all _and_ the doors and elevator buttons at the same time.

Steve catches him when he’s half in and half out of said elevator, doing his best to keep the doors from closing with his foot as he transfers parcels into the hall. 

“Need some help?” he asks, already reaching up to hold the door.

“ _Please_.” Tony dives in to scoop up a few small things that fell out of their carry bags, and then heaves the giant box that is baby Danielle’s new playpen out of the corner.

Steve looks amused.

“Are you sure you bought enough gifts, Shellhead? You realize no one’s expecting anything, right? The team and the Tower are really enough.”

“For you, maybe,” Tony allows, which is not to say that he _hasn’t_ purchased a few small things for Steve as well. “But Carol has been telling Peter and Luke and both Jesses stories about Christmas at the Mansion, and Logan makes some vague reference almost every time I see him these days, and _also_ ,” he points at Steve, “there are thirty odd Avengers and assorted superheros at this gathering, and my mother raised me to be a good host. Good hosts do not let guests at a Christmas party leave empty handed.”

Steve laughs. “I think our mothers might have had very different ideas of what it means to be a host. Food, yes, obviously. Feed everyone. Physical gifts? Not so much.”

“Well, with any luck we’ll have both angles covered.” Tony stares down at the irregular pile of boxes and bags. “Can you get the ones on that side and the big box and I’ll get the bags and this over here . . . ?”

Steve’s already moving, picking things up and organizing them by size and weight and not even looking at the name tags, because he just has superhuman self-control like that. Tony drags carry-bag handles over his shoulders and arms and grabs the last few soft and squishy bundles in his hands. 

“Living room?” Steve confirms, setting off down the hallway.

“Everything under the main tree,” Tony agrees, following. “Is everyone here?”

“I think the Fantastic Four are running late,” Steve says, maneuvering carefully around a corner graced with too many poinsettias. “Or at least, I haven’t seen any of them yet. And Strange sent a note about the confluence of cosmic energies and dimensional fracturing, so I’m assuming that means he’s not coming.”

“He never does. I put his gift in the mail last week.”

Even with the doors closed, Tony can hear music and conversation and laughter coming from the room beyond. He levers the handle with his elbow and pushes the door open with his shoulder, doing his best to avoid squashing anything.

The living room has transformed since he helped Jarvis and Steve put up decorations last night. There are even more lights strung everywhere, and someone’s brought a bunch of paper snowflakes and glittery ornaments to hang on any available surface. There’s a collection of tables he didn’t even know he owned scattered around, laden with food and water bottles and hot drink dispensers, and the space seems to be brimming over with superheroes, in and out of costume, some with plates or drinks, some just talking. Their arrival is greeted with a literal cheer of approval, and it takes him a second parse actual words from the noise.

“Finally!” 

“Stop right there, both of you.”

“Look up.”

Carol, Jan, and Jessica Drew are close enough to stop Tony from moving any further into the room. Peter, MJ, Luke, Jessica Jones and baby Danielle are all crowded together on the nearest couches, obviously watching, and Tony gets the distinct impression that everyone in the room is trying to get a good angle on what is apparently the highlight of everyone’s evening.

He’s pretty sure it’s not about him, or Steve, or the gifts. He looks up.

Mistletoe. Fake, plastic mistletoe that has obviously been added in a moment when Jarvis wasn’t looking, dangling over the doorway on a plain white piece of string. 

“Ah.” He looks to Steve, registering a faintly surprised expression before his eyes skitter away to latch onto the audience. “Gifts first?” he asks. Carol crosses her arms and gives him a _look_. Jan shakes her head, grinning.

“I kissed Carol,” Peter volunteers. “And Logan kissed Jess, and—”

“And it’s _tradition_ , Tony,” Jan says. 

“It is _not_.” Tony glares at her.

“Sure it is,” Carol chimes in. “Just because you manage to weasel out of it every year doesn’t mean it’s not tradition. Come on. Pucker up. Steve’s not complaining.”

“I might if I could get a word in.” Steve sounds amused. “But I’d hate to disappoint so many of you all at once.”

Tony turns back to face him. He’s not really sure why his stomach is going all fluttery right now. It’s not as though he’s never kissed Steve before. He’s kissed Steve a lot, and they’ve done a lot more than kiss. But. Not in front of anyone. Not openly. And not . . . officially.

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. Tony shrugs, setting the gifts rustling. He doesn’t even know what he _wants_. A kiss, in and of itself, is a small thing. It’s just that he’s been thinking more and more, lately, that this off and on thing he and Steve do might be better as something else. Like he might actually ask Steve out on a real date at some point, and see how that goes. He doesn’t even know if they’re off or on right now, but he’s pretty sure if Steve goes for a safe peck on the cheek he’ll spend the whole rest of the night worrying about it.

Steve turns and sets down the box, and the rest of his packages, and Tony has about half a second to realize what’s happening before Steve cups his face in his hands and kisses him on the lips. It’s not chaste, and it’s not subtle. It’s hot and wet and heavy with undeniable intent. There’s tongue. Tony’s pretty sure he whimpers.

On it is then. Definitely on. 

Around them, people are talking. Tony is doing his best not to listen. Any conversation happening is a problem for a future version of him who isn’t being kissed in public by Captain America. 

When it ends, Steve stays close and holds his gaze for a moment.

“All right?” he asks, just loud enough for Tony to hear the words.

“Great,” Tony manages. “I mean, yes.”

“Good.” Steve smiles. His eyes are so blue Tony feels like he’s flying without the armor: clear skies and a rush of endorphins flooding through his brain.

And then Steve turns and picks up his half of the presents and just walks into the room. Tony watches him go, not quite willing to move yet.

“What was that?” 

Jan pulls him out of the doorway. He catches sight of Rhodey raising a glass in his general direction. Some of the younger set have already descended on Steve, doing their best to inspect their potential gifts without actually taking them from Steve’s hands.

“Tony?”

“You two have definitely done that before,” Peter is saying, an accusative finger poking at Steve’s chest.

“Is that a problem?” Steve asks, mild as milk, and Peter sputters.

“Tony. Tony!”

“Hm?” Carol and Jan are both staring at him now. Jan looks almost concerned. Carol has her hands on her hips, an expectant expression on her face.

“How long has this been going on?” she asks.

Tony makes a show of checking his watch. “Two minutes?” he offers. “Five?”

She punches him in the shoulder.

“You know what I mean!”

“How many times have we talked about your lack of a social life this year,” Jan adds, “and you never thought to mention _Steve?_ ”

As if he was just going to drop “ _yeah, Steve and I have been secretly fucking on and off for years now_ ” into a casual conversation.

“I should really get these to the tree,” he says, holding out his arms, still laden with gift-wrapped parcels. “And something smells amazing, did someone bring gingerbread?” He slips around Jan’s side.

“Tony,” she protests. He spins back. 

“Jan.”

She purses her lips, considering.

“A trade?” she asks, holding up a camera. “I taped it. Some information, in exchange for a viewing?”

It’s _extremely_ tempting. And yet. 

“Sorry,” he says, still smiling because he’s still riding high. He probably won’t be able to stop all evening at this rate. “My lips are sealed.” 


End file.
